


Transatlantic D-Day

by Nellblazer



Series: Transatlantic [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, British Military, F/M, Fluff, France (Country), Grief/Mourning, Invasion, Loss of Virginity, Minor Character Death, Mission Fic, Protective Steve Rogers, Romance, Smut, Soldier Enhancement Program, Steve Rogers Feels, War, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22307197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nellblazer/pseuds/Nellblazer
Summary: An AU to the Transatlantic One Shot.Instead of missing Brigadier Darling before the final events of The First Avenger, Steve joins you for the Allied mission towards the Normandy beaches.*Please do not replicate my work without my express permission*
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s), Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: Transatlantic [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1605643
Kudos: 34





	Transatlantic D-Day

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Angst, grief, death, smut
> 
> (Possible proof reading errors)
> 
> Happy reading!  
> \- TLP xx

Steve got back to London dejected and broken.

Watching his best friend die was hard enough but he had nothing to show for it, only a lunatic scientist who wasn't giving anything away. He tried to enquire after you, desperate to have something tangible left but no one would tell him anything. 'Top Secret' the higher ups would say. They couldn't even confirm if you were alive or dead.

He left the headquarters quickly, wandering aimlessly through the wreckage of the blitz.

He passed crying women, dirty and damaged as they gripped small bodies to their chests. Looters were raiding pantries in bombed out houses but he had no drive to stop them. Once or twice he fell over debris that made him stumble but he didn't feel the pain as his hands scraped the floor.

He walked until his boots hurt and he found himself at the pub where he'd danced with you once. He thought of you a lot, hoping someday he might see you again but after experiencing the horrors of the war, that might be too optimistic.

Steve grabbed one of the few unbroken bottles from behind the counter and sat in a chair, swigging straight from it and praying that maybe this time would be the time he could get drunk, forget it all. The more he knocked back, the more he realised that wasn't going to happen and he rested his head on the table, trying not to cry.

It wasn't fair.

It seemed so recently that he had everything in his grasp. His friends, his future...you. Now all he had was grief.

The sirens were starting but he didn't care. What did it matter if a bomb hit him right now?

“You know, I don't think it's a good time to be outside, Captain.”

He turns around in the seat so fast that it tips over and he sprawls on the floor, the bottle smashing on the ground.

“That's an interesting reaction,” the voice laughs. “I dare say I'll remember that for a time.”

“It's you!” he scrambles to his feet.

You were standing there in your uniform, not a hair out of place and exactly how he remembered you. You were smiling kindly at him and he didn't realise just how much tension he let out in that moment.

“It's me,” you walk forward.

“Brigadier Darling,” he runs to you before hesitating mere inches away.

He didn't know what to do. What if you'd found someone else in the months he'd been away? What if you just simply didn't want him any more?

“Are you going to leave a girl cold?” you raise an eyebrow. “Several months in Boche territory and I don't even get a kiss? Do I need to give you a direct order, Captain?”

“God I missed you,” Steve grabs you around the waist, kissing you so hard that you nearly fell backwards. “I looked for you in HQ.”

“Ah, I was delivering a few death messages. Not pleasant business,” you look down, biting your lip a little. “I only got back two days ago and thought giving families some peace of mind was more important than reporting in. I lost a lot of men. From the look in your eyes, I see you lost some too.”

“Bucky...” the lump sticks in this throat and he can't quite look at you directly.

“Oh Steve,” you take his face in your hands and you look so concerned for him. “I'm so sorry. Barnes was a good man.”

The feeling of you hugging him was overwhelming and he melted into your embrace. At least one thing hadn't been taken away from him.

“How many for you?” he asks you, knowing he's being selfish by breaking down when you'd had trauma too.

“Accrington, Scattergood, Keeling, Fairhurst, Bishop, Godfrey, Godfrey and Price,” you reel off. “Our Resistance operatives were betrayed. We only have a few French speaking personnel left. God it was a bloody massacre. We stood no chance. I'm lucky the Jerrys had no idea who I was otherwise I'd be in a laboratory somewhere.”

“I'm sorry but I'm glad you're alright,” Steve kisses your forehead. “I lost Bucky going after Zola. High speed train and the side blew out. We were on a cliffside and Buck...”

“Bally lot of good warfare is, eh?” you sigh. “Feels like there's been no progress. Did they tell you what the next steps are going to be?”

“No, I...I wanted to get away from everyone.”

“They want my company to helm Operation Overlord,” you take his hands, squeezing them and he can see you're scared. “Storm the Normandy beaches in a full Allied mission to break Boche control over France. It's a suicide mission. I've seen the recon photographs. Most beaches have Panzer divisions near them.”

“They can't be serious?!” he cries.

“Steve, this is it for me. I may be enhanced but I'm not invulnerable.”

“No, I refuse to believe that,” he strokes your hair back. “I'm not letting you go.”

“I'll get shot for desertion if I don't,” you look so sad that it breaks his heart. “Spend the night with me, Steve. Give me something happy to remember before I bite it.”

“You're not going. I'll smuggle you away to America, I don't care.”

“I admire your spirit, Steve but you and I both know that's not what we were created for.”

“Then I'll go with you.”

“Steve-”

“-I'm not letting you go alone,” Steve holds you tightly. “I just can't.”

“You have your job to do and I have mine. You for Schmidt and myself for Hitler. That was the arrangement.”

“Fuck the arrangement.”

“Steve!” you gasp.

“I'm sorry, I know that's uncouth but I made myself a promise that I would see you again and I'm not gonna just ship back out the second I find you.”

“Listen,” you sigh, clearly knowing you weren't going to win this discussion. “Let's talk about it in the morning. Please just....come with me. I know that's incredibly forward but I don't want to be alone tonight.”

He could see you were waiting for an answer, your confidence wavering. He felt like accepting would mean he was accepting your possible death but he couldn't just keep silent.

“Lead the way,” he says finally.

**

You took him to the same house he'd escorted you to all those months ago but this time, he walked over the threshold.

It was much more homely than his apartment back home and he could see it was a house well lived in. The quaint china in the display cabinets and the velvet armchair with a groove worn in the cushion all spoke of the generations that had resided here.

You were taking off your belts and your jacket, hanging them on a hook before joining him in the living room.

“I'm not particularly good at this,” you started. “But I don't want to die only being intimate with a man who left me for the village postmistress.”

“Well he's an idiot,” Steve frowns. “I'm really surprised you didn't find someone else whilst I was gone.”

“You make an impression, Captain,” you smile shyly.

“I've never....” the words dry out. It felt shameful to say it.

“Been with a woman?” you finish for him.

“No one wants to dance with the asthmatic kid and no dame _definitely_ wants to be intimate with him.”

“Well they're idiots,” you echo his own phrase back to him. “I really think you're something and I would've thought you were something before the serum. Heart and soul is most important in a partner, don't you agree?”

He was speechless. Before he realised what he was doing, he'd crossed over to you, taking your face in his hands and kissing you passionately.

There was awkward fumbling to get upstairs to the bedroom but you managed it in between hungry kisses. You were taking his jacket off, fingers nimbly undoing his buttons.

This was so overwhelming for him but he needed more. He couldn't let his nerves get the better of him. Easier said than done when he couldn't undo your blouse because his hands were shaking so much.

“Here, let me,” you say kindly, helping him out until he could see the soft feminine brassiere, so unlike the harsh cut of your uniform.

You take his hands, placing them over your breasts, letting him feel you.

“Don't be afraid,” you say earnestly.

When the pads of his thumbs brush over your nipples, he can see them harden and hear the little intake of breath you make and he's instantly addicted. He wants to hear you make more noises for him.

Soon his desire is outstripping his anxiousness and he's pushing your pants down, seeing the tops of your stockings and groaning to himself at the sight. He'd expected someone like you to wear sensible and comfortable underwear but you displayed your femininity underneath it seems.

You step out of your clothes and shoes, hooking your fingers into Steve's waistband and pulling him to the bed, climbing onto it as he lies next to you. The kissing becomes more heated and he starts trusting his instincts. He rolls on top of you and you gladly accept him, body moulded against his and there's the sweetest moans that you keep making as his hips start grinding against you.

The more he unwraps your body until you're bare for him, the more the need grows to be inside you, to claim you. He moves back, his pants discarded and now he can feel skin on skin and the heat is incredible.

“Steve, please.”

The desperation in your plea hits him like nothing he's ever experienced. He knows he should've heeded Bucky's old advice about making sure a dame is satisfied first but you just seem so impatient that he lines himself up against you.

“Sure about this, sweetheart?” he asks.

“Bloody hell, Steve,” you grab his shoulders. “I need you. Please!”

You were so tight, so warm and so welcoming. He glided into you, feeling you arch as he fully seated himself.

Steve had never really understood the term 'making love' before but he felt it then. His very first time with someone who wanted him whole-heartedly. He kissed every inch of you he could, he made sure he was always touching you as he started a rhythm that felt right.

“Steve,” the breathy rasp spurred him on and on as you clutched him tighter. “Oh god, Steve!”

He could feel you getting tighter, your body tensing before you cried out loudly, twitching in his arms. It wasn't long before he was crying out too, emptying himself into you.

He let himself collapse slightly on you, head resting on your chest to feel your rapid heartbeat and your panting breaths.

“I hope that was enjoyable for your first time,” you're stroking his hair.

“You have no idea,” he smiles. “My ma would've beat me six ways from Sunday for being in sin with a gal like this but you're worth the risk.”

“Stay the night with me.”

“I intend to,” Steve moves off you before tucking you both under the covers. “I intend to stay every day with you from now on.”

“Don't make promises you can't keep, Captain,” you smile ruefully. “There's a war on.”

“And we'll fight it together,” he holds your hand tightly.

“I'm very glad Agent Carter tried to shoot you, you know,” you settle into the pillows. “Meant I had a chance.”

“Sweetheart, _I'm_ the lucky one here,” he laughs. “Come on, I'll hold you 'til you fall asleep.”

And he made sure he did and he didn't let go even after that, even when sleep came for him as well.

**

“I'm sorry?!” Colonel Philips splutters. “What do you mean _no_?”

“I mean I'm needed elsewhere,” Steve stands his ground.

“Son, I've got the founder of Hydra for the picking and you're just gonna take an excursion? Does this look like a summer camp to you?”

“Operation Overlord is vital-”

“-Operation Overlord is in hand, Captain,” the Colonel replies tartly. “We already _have_ a supersoldier leading the charge. I don't need two down there.”

“You mean in case she dies, you'll still have me to carry on.”

“So that's what this is really about,” Peggy purses her lips. “The Brigadier.”

“Well?” the Colonel prompts. “Are you dizzy for the factory engineer?”

“Don't call her that,” Steve slams his palm down on the table, making the wood splinter a little. “I was nothing but a punk before you took a chance on me. At least she was doing something useful before the accident happened.”

“Steve, we're not putting you on Overlord because you're infatuated with a girl,” Peggy scowls.

“You're not going on Overlord full stop,” the Colonel adds.

“The hell I'm not,” Steve turns to leave but one of the Bletchley Park researchers scurries in, almost bouncing off of Steve's chest as he collides with him.

“Sorry to bother you, Sir, Ma'am,” he addresses formally. “Schmidt has been sighted in Northern France. There seems to be one base that wasn't on the map that Captain Rogers saw.”

Steve can feel the Colonel and Peggy's gaze on him before he sees them. They look exasperated.

“Are you kidding me right now?” the Colonel sighs before addressing Steve. “Alright, fine. Pack your stuff. Hope there's enough of you left to put in a damn matchbox after the landings.”

“Sir,” Steve salutes before leaving.

He wasn't going to push his luck by gloating. Just when he thought he'd had a victory though, he could hear the clip-clopping of heels and knew Peggy was following him. He stopped, put his hands behind his back and waited.

“I hope you're happy, Steve,” the tone is bitter, hurt. “She only knows the you you are now, not the man you were before.”

“If you knew the man I was before then you would know I wouldn't step out on you, Peggy,” he turns around and she looks mortified. “But you didn't trust me.”

“And have you and the Brigadier...”

She was probing to know how close you were, although why, he didn't know.

“Yes,” he answers honestly.

“So some cheap floozy rolls around in the hay with you and you lose your damn mind?” she folds her arms, her voice sticking in her throat. “You want to throw your life away storming the Normandy beaches?”

“You take that back,” Steve growls and she looks afraid for a second. “She's beautiful on the inside and out and I'm gonna marry that gal after all a' this is done, y'hear?”

“Are you now?”

Oh no. That was _your_ voice.

“Brigadier,” Peggy says coldly.

“Agent,” you reply with a polite smile. “Might I borrow Captain Rogers or are you still giving him a tongue lashing for your own error; only, I'm on a tight schedule and I'm supposed to be dying tomorrow so I don't have much time to dilly dally.”

Peggy's mouth falls open in shock as she processes the barbed words you've just spoken. It seems she's not capable of replying though because she gives a noise between a huff and a squeal and storms off down the corridor.

“Remind me not to be around the old girl when she has a pistol,” you mutter.

“How much of that did you hear?” Steve flushes, already knowing the answer but hoping it won't be true.

“Enough to catch the very ardent declaration of your intent.”

“Oh god, I'm so sorry,” Steve hides his face. “I just....”

“If we live through Overlord....” you start with some hesitation. “Then I'll expect a quiet wedding. I hate pomp and circumstance.”

“You mean, you'd consider it? An engagement?” Steve's heart is pounding in his chest.

“It's reckless but then again, last night was reckless too and nobody knows if we'll all be alive to see the dawn these days. I'll take happiness where I can get it.”

He grabs you around the waist, pulling you in towards him and kissing you hard.

“For God's sake, Rogers,” Colonel Philips groans as he passes by. “I just had lunch.”

“Sorry, Sir,” Steve calls after the retreating back but he's too elated to care what anyone thinks right now. “Schmidt is in France so I have official leave to be in your company.”

“Well that's one less hurdle,” your mouth sets a little. “How are your Commandos? Eager to run into the jaws of death?”

“They've been in some scrapes these last few months but they're good soldiers. Consider them yours.”

“No,” you shake your head. “ _Ours_. Joint mission, joint custody of the riff raff we're dragging along behind us.”

“I can handle that.”

“Now, let me show you the strategy plans.”

**

Steve could see the beach growing larger and larger, choppy waves spraying him with fine seawater every so often as he scanned the horizon for signs of a trap. You were hunkered down next to him, binoculars glued to your face as you periodically swept from left to right.

“I suppose it's too much to ask that the Boche might have nipped home for Sauerkraut?” one of your men, the third Godfrey brother asks.

“Wishful thinking I'm afraid,” you reply, putting the binoculars down and sighing. “Webley? We are on course for Sword Beach, correct?”

The rudderman grunts his acknowledgement, “Checked n' double checked, Ma'am.”

“The suspense is fuckin' killin' me,” Dugan adjusts his rifle, looking to the other boats as you silently glided towards enemy territory. “I don't like it.”

“None of us do,” Steve murmurs.

The beach was within easy swimming distance now, the first wave just about to land.

“Guns at the ready,” you call out. “There's movement ahead.”

The first boats landed, ramps crashing down as men staggered, sea sick and disorientated onto the sand. The more experienced men found cover behind rocks and dug in foxholes, shovels working fiercely whilst the others aimlessly wandered, pulling bicycles ashore. The difference in approach was staggering.

“They need to work as a unit,” he heard you tsk. “It's going to be a mess otherwise. Who on earth is commanding the first wave?”

“A complete berk,” Falsworth piped up. “I heard it's Major General Buckley.”

“Oh well that explains it,” you sigh. “About as much use as a chocolate fireguard.”

Steve smiles but he keeps scanning the horizon ahead. Now wasn't the time to get distracted when they were just about to make land.

“What's the plan again?” he says absent-mindedly, just wanting to hear your voice a bit more. It kept him level-headed.

“We need to capture the bridges towards Caen. The first wave will destroy the bridge over the Dives river to stop the Jerrys coming up the back of us. Then we push on. If we can take the city of Caen, we can head for Paris.”

The boat now beached itself before Dugan and Falsworth let the ramp down. Steve walked off, grateful to be on solid land. The journey over the Channel in the early dawn had been an experience he never wanted to repeat but he maintained it was worth it to make sure you didn't go through this alone.

Water tried to invade his boots but he kept on until he was sinking into sand, revolver gripped tightly. The first wave were already in the treeline now, heading towards the parapets where, after a few moments of peace, all hell broke loose.

Gunshots started ringing out and there was shouting ahead.

“Come along chaps,” you wave to the mixed platoon. “Leave them to deal with it. They're trained for this. We need to get to the bridges.”

They hurried along in the opposite direction before coming across a German post with a line of nine soldiers. That's how Steve knew the plans for Overlord had been kept secret successfully. There were hardly any defences.

Quickly and quietly, Falsworth and Godfrey took their long range rifles and picked off the most heavily armed ones whilst the rest of the platoon took up cover, dispatching the rest.

Steve heard the running movements way before everyone else did and knew someone was charging them from behind but, before he could whirl around, you'd already shot the attacker who fell backwards in a crumpled heap.

“Good shot,” he says impressed.

“I'm not just a pretty face, Captain,” you wink before taking out a long tin whistle and blowing hard.

That signalled to the second wave to follow with one platoon being left behind to guard the bridge. It was time to move on. So far this was going well.

As you all journeyed to the second bridge, however, Steve saw the snout of a tank over the ridge of the field they'd been tramping through.

“Stop,” he immediately calls and the company halts. “Panzer. Dugan and Denby, you flank them. Darling and I will draw the fire. Remember how we went over this?”

“Yeah yeah, Cap,” Dugan snorts, grabbing the long grenade from his belt. “In the hatch, drop it and cook 'em.”

“Denby,” you address your own man. “There's a rotary gun, currently unmanned. Don't let a Jerry get to it before you can get round.”

“Don't worry Ma'am,” Denby grabs his bayonet, attaching it to his gun. “I don't fancy having more holes than a doily.”

“Morita, Pinkerton, Dernier, Junior and Gabe, hold this position so we're not flanked,” Steve orders before looking expectantly at you to address your side of the company.

“Lads, you know what to do by now,” you say simply. “I'm not going to teach you how to suck eggs.”

“Very good, Ma'am,” Singh nods before making a series of signals and your men fan out into the treeline at strategic points.

“Makes a change from how I saw people treating you at HQ,” Steve remarks,

“After months of fighting together I think they realise I'm not here as a poster girl,” you smile. “Shall we?”

You both barrelled forward, sprinting as fast as you could and the Germans panicked. Shots went whizzing past Steve's head. He may be fast but these guys had good aim and there were a few points where bullets nearly hit him.

“Kapitän Amerika!” he heard the cries. “Kapitän Großritannien!“

Captain Britain? Is _that_ what they called you?

He pondered that for too long. The barrel of the Panzer was pointing straight in his direction and with a blast, the shell came directly at him.

He was vaguely aware of a set of arms around his middle, hoisting him backwards as the ground exploded into showers of dirt under his feet. His ears were ringing as he rolled onto the grass, the blades catching in his mouth as he spat them out, trying not to choke.

“Steve!” you're shaking him. “We have to get up! They're starting the second volley!”

You drag him to his feet and he stumbles before running with you, just as the spot where he was just lay was obliterated. The back of his head was pelted with small stones and soil.

And then abruptly the noises stopped before a loud boom sounded out and metal shards ripped through the air.

“Cutting it a bit fine, huh?” Dugan calls out, his tone mirthful. “I sure as shit ain't explaining to the Colonel why Captain America got blown up by a tank.”

“I'll be more careful next time,” Steve gives a sardonic wave.

“He's right,” you squeeze his arm. “Don't get killed when you've given a girl hope.”

“Oh I intend to get you to a church, sweetheart,” Steve smiles softly. “I promise I'll keep my head better.”

Again the shrill sound of the whistle as you blew on it. It was time to move on again. The city awaited and Steve knew it would be more heavily fortified than these outposts.

As they marched in a column, he was on edge. This seemed too easy right now. The first wave had encountered a lot more resistance but they were on their way to a German occupied fort and yet they'd had....nothing.

They could've just been out for a hike along the countryside. The rolling green hills were pretty if he stopped to consider them for long enough.

He should've known this good fortune wouldn't last though.

Webley was trying to get around Dernier to speak to Godfrey and strayed off the path. His facial expression changed from wariness to complete terror and he stood stock still.

“Lads!” he cries out. “Landmine!”

“Fucking hell,” you curse as you head down the line towards him.

Steve had never heard you swear before and knew you were frightened. He followed you and made sure the men kept a safe distance.

“Ma'am,” Webley's voice is quivering. “Ma'am, I don't want to die.”

“You're not going to die, Webley. We're going to get you off that thing,” you start circling him, mapping out the mine before squatting down to look near his foot. “Whatever you do, don't move or we'll all go up.”

“What's the plan?” Steve asks once everyone is far away.

“I'm trying to work out the radius of detonation,” he can see the cogs turning in your brain. “If it's small, one of us can throw him far enough to be away from the blast.”

“Far be it from me to give advice to my senior,” Webley swallows hard. “But that would mean you or the Captain would get injured. I really don't want to die but I'm not as valuable as you are, Ma'am. Leave me here.”

“I'm not doing that, Lance Corporal,” you scowl before your eyes widen. “Steve, there was a motorcycle back at the bridge. If you can get that and grab Webley as you go past....”

“We might be able to outrun the explosion,” Steve nods. “Stay here.”

He runs as fast as he can back along the winding country path, his legs protesting at the sustained sprint but he didn't care. You'd lost enough men. Anything he could do to save one would be worth it.

When he eventually got on the bike and came haring back, he saw you holding Webley's hand as the soldier was trying not to sob. You were talking softly to him, trying to keep him calm.

“Ready,” Steve pulls up alongside.

“Ma'am?” Webley asks. “If I don't make it, will you write a letter to my mother? Tell her I didn't cry. Tell her I was brave. I don't want her to know.....”

He trails off.

“Of course. Of course I will,” you say earnestly. “We're going to do our best, Edward. Steve, over to you. I'll corral the rest of them.”

You retreat to the little cluster of the company as he wheels around to get a run up. He revs intensely before taking a deep steadying breath and kicked off, the bike flying down the path. He reached his arm out, grabbing Webley round the middle before he felt the rumble behind him as the mine went off. The bike pitched forward but Steve leaned back, trying to keep his balance as it spun out, dumping him onto the grass where he skidded, losing his grip on Webley.

In moments they were both surrounded by comrades, checking them over, pulling them to their feet.

“Steve, are you alright?” you're by his side quickly.

“That was like being back at Coney Island,” he shakes his head.

“Thank you Captain,” Webley is there, embracing him. “Thank you.”

“That's just fine. Darling had the idea,” Steve flushes.

The victory is short lived though. Vehicles were trundling down with mounted guns. He could see the Hydra logo on the bonnet.

“Is that....good lord, what on earth is wrong with his face?!” you can see it too.

Schmidt is approaching with a small force. Steve still remembers the sickening time he'd watched him peel his skin away.

“That's what happens when the serum is given to the wrong person,” Steve says quietly.

“Men, fall in. Close ranks,” you order, hand warily on your revolver before whispering to him. “Why is he here? Why come out to face us?”

“He's not afraid. He's showing us he's not afraid.”

The truck pulls up and Schmidt exits with all the arrogance of a man who believed he was winning even when the foundations of his empire were burning around him. Steve had routed every Hydra base bar the secret one before returning to London.

“How fortunate I am to see two supersoldiers before me,” Schmidt's mouth curls, the lack of lips making the effect horrifying. “Captain Britain the troops call you. So nice to finally meet the woman who's disrupting the Fuhrer's plans. I hadn't expected such a delicate disposition to put up a fight.”

“I'll show you a delicate disposition,” you're immediately affronted. “And it's Brigadier.”

“No matter,” Schmidt dismisses. “I suppose you think this operation will turn the tide of war but I assure you, it will not. Captain Rogers, I'm sure you know the power I possess, the weapons I have made. Your invasion will fail. It is time to accept the rule of Hydra.”

“I don't think so, pal,” Steve throws his shield at Schmidt's face who balks, deflecting it with his hand.

You catch it and, while Schmidt is distracted, bounce it off the gun turret at the back of the van, breaking the barrel and rendering it useless before it returns to you and you toss it to Steve.

“Destroy them!” Schmidt yells and Steve is terrified when all the Tesseract weapons turn towards you.

“NO!” he screams.

Gunshots and blue light flash in his vision. He thinks for a second that you've vapourised, that just when he'd found the girl for him, he'd lost you. Then the dust clears and he can see you're unharmed.

Singh is standing in front of you, rifle bared and he's picked off Schmidt's men in the chaos. His turban is slightly askew which you quickly fix for him before blasting a straggler in the head.

Steve could almost envy the bond that you shared with your men, the unfathomable loyalty and the kinship. Singh gave you a gracious nod and held his position.

“No matter,” Schmidt removes his leather gloves before drawing a pistol from his back that looked too unusual to be a simple firearm.

In one motion, he evaporated Denby in an instant and before anyone could process what was happening, he blew a whistle of his own.

“Bastard!” you roar, leaping forward to punch him in the face, using your other hand to grab Schmidt's wrist and twist it around until he drops the gun.

More troops are coming now and two tanks are trundling across the valley. The city must be over the ridge if they're approaching this quickly. This was going to be a bloodbath if you all didn't get out of here.

Schmidt headbutts you so hard that your eyebrow splits and throws you into the rest of the troops, Pinkerton catching you awkwardly. He gets back to his car, driving off towards the beach and Steve knows he plans to obliterate the Allied forces before they can make the big push.

“Go!” you shout to him, staggering a little with the injury.

“What about you?”

“I'll take Caen. Just go, Steve!” you motion to your men. “There's no time to argue! We do this, we can kill off Hydra and gain a foothold!”

He didn't want to leave you, he really didn't but he knew what you were saying made strategic sense. He gestured to the Howling Commandos and the team split up.

Even during the midst of war, Steve regretted that he could never give you a kiss in that moment. It might be the last time he ever saw you, after all.

**

Schmidt was dead...or at least Steve thought he was.

After trying to directly harness the power of the Tesseract, he had vanished into a beam of light, the iridescent cube flinging off into the Channel. Steve was glad it was gone.

There were heavy casualties of the third wave that had been fortifying Sword beach. The ash of the fallen was mingling with the glittering sand and he experienced a pang of absolute grief that none of their families could bury their children now. The advanced weaponry had robbed them of that dignity.

“I say,” Falsworth prompts him out of his reverie. “I rather think we ought to get back to Brigadier Darling and see if the old girl has managed to take the city.”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Steve blinks himself back to normality. “I hope she's okay.”

“She's a tough dame,” Dugan shrugs, picking up a Hydra weapon and stowing it in his backpack. “Her team is tough too. She'll be alright, Cap.”

But every step closer to Caen, Steve felt more and more a sense of dread that was knotting in his stomach. What if it had gone wrong? What if you were hurt? What if....

He didn't want to consider the worst case scenario.

Slowly the wreckage of the city sprung into view, the buildings marred with brickwork gouged out and the wooden timbers of roofs smouldering. Clearly you'd come across fierce resistance.

He walked on down the narrow streets, the paving uneven under his feet as he searched for you. He felt the pitying gaze of his men behind him as he pressed on, trying to find any sign of you.

“There they are!” Gabe shouts in glee, pointing down to a square where a number of bodies were strewn around.

In the centre though, the very centre, he recognised some of your men and, as Godfrey moved aside, the flag on your outfit was like a beacon calling him to you.

“WHAT HO!” Falsworth calls merrily and heads turned in his direction.

The resulting cheer as the two companies merged once again was jubilant. Steve only had eyes for you though.

You were patching up a German soldier, a regular it seemed, not a Hydra operative. Your hair was wild, singed a little in places and you'd take a shot to the shoulder but you were concentrating on the task at hand.

“Leave 'im,” Pinkerton spits on the ground, noticing the insignia on the man's uniform. “Bastard would never have done the same for us.”

“That will do,” you say very firmly. “He's just a boy and he's scared. Ordinary German citizens had no choice but to fight, just like our boys. Don't hold it against them.”

Steve only knew a basic amount of German for mission purposes but he could understand the furtive thank you's the soldier was babbling. You were right, he _was_ just a boy, probably not even twenty yet.

“You need to get your shoulder looked at,” Steve squats down next to you.

“I'm fine, I'll deal with it when I have a spare moment,” you apply the final bandages to the soldier's leg before addressing him. “ _Ruhen_.”

The soldier gives a weak nod as you lay him back gently.

“Darling-”

“-Did you get him?” you turn to him, using your water cannister to wash the blood from your fingers. “Schmidt?”

“Yeah, yeah he's gone.”

“Good,” your jaw sets. “Denby....I'm not overly looking forward to that conversation with his mother. I promised I would keep him safe.”

“There was nothing you could've done,” he touches your arm gently.

“I know,” the tears are swimming in your eyes. “I know. Doesn't stop me feeling like this though. At least this blasted city is ours. A lot of the occupying troops fled to Paris. We should be able to establish a base here.”

You looked up at the darkening sky, the tinge of orange creeping into the blue.

“I'm glad you were here with me,” you say after a time. “I'm not sure I would've made it if I'd been alone.”

“You would've,” Steve cups your cheek. “You're a good leader and a good fighter.”

He leans forward to kiss you, ignoring the catcalls of the company. It seems to help you focus a little better.

“I suspect word will reach Hitler soon that two supersoldiers are in France. I hope he surrenders soon. This....I've seen too much of this already,” you take a shaky breath.

“We'll make it happen,” Steve says gently. “You and me and our mismatched guys will end this. I want you to tell me about the church in your village. We're gonna get married there after all.”

That seems to pull you back to yourself as you describe in great detail the way the flowers twist up the stonework and Steve allows himself a brief respite, just content to hear you talk and imagine a future that's not broken and bloody. To imagine a future where you live in a cosy house, where he's free to just be something other than a soldier, where he's free to be a husband and possibly a father if you wanted that too.

He didn't know that the war would roll on for another year until Germany surrendered and in that time he'd gain more than enough memories that would plague him in the dead of night. He didn't know he'd lose more men and that he'd carry the burden of their lives around his neck, weighing his soul down. He didn't know he'd been taking you back to England where you'd spend a month in an asylum for shellshock and he'd visit you every day with flowers until you could finally sleep through until morning.

For now, the war raged on and Steve had a job to do.

___________________________________________________________________________

“ _Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,_

_Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,_

_Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,_

_And towards our distant rest began to trudge.”_

Dulce Et Decorum Est – Wilfred Owen


End file.
